I Knew Her

A Story by Jazzy

A father saves his son from the abuse of the mother.

Her eyes fluttered shut. If you didn't know her, you'd think she was asleep. I knew her. I knew she was mentally stepping away from the situation to get a hold of every piece of panic that was careening around inside of her like a shaken snowglobe. She was letting the snow settle before she made her next move.

Her eyes snapped open and I could see that nothing had really settled. It had just been stained with an anger that she couldn't suppress.

"Arthur," she said with a voice so quiet and full of the promise of menace that even I flinched. Arthur did too, but he did more. He sank into himself like his insides were just collapsing and falling into his hollowing legs. He could not meet her eyes.

If I was certain she meant him no true harm, I would walk away and let the storm hit the poor boy. But she had a history that flickered in her eyes and I stayed to protect my son.

"How could you do this to me?" she whispered, her eyebrows furrowing as she shook her head. I didn't know who to look at anymore. I took a step back so they both fit into my frame but Arthur's gaze darted to my retreating figure and I stepped forward again. He returned his eyes to the floor but kept his head tilted in my direction.

"He's not going to save you this time, Arthur," she snapped.

But she had never been more wrong. This time, he wouldn't stay home from school for the week to hide the bruising along his cheekbone. This time, he wouldn't lie in bed wondering if anyone truly loved him. This time, he wouldn't have to piss in his trash can because his mother locked his door and refused to let him out.

This time was the last time I watched her crush the soul of a scarred young boy -- of my boy.

I grabbed her wrist out of the hair as it rose to slap my son and I pulled her through the kitchen and the living room and the front door. I let her go on the front porch and shut the door. The click of the lock was such a sound of finality that I almost smiled.

She screamed and beat on the door with such rage that it should have broken every structure in her path, but the house was just as finished with her as I was and it secured itself against her. It dismissed her welcome.

Arthur cried, but the tears were of uncensored relief and I held to my chest a boy that had no other experience but pain from his own mother and I whispered into his ear a future of hope and love and he looked into my eyes and he began to heal.